Birthday Cake
by Mikki13
Summary: Seven important birthdays in the life of Allison Cameron. Author's view of what might have been.


AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to my betas, Tiffany and Stephanie.

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. But then you already knew that.;-)

* * *

On her first birthday, Allison was placed in her high chair and given her very first piece of chocolate cake. Her toddler eyes grew wide as she placed her tiny finger into the icing and it came back covered in a gob of chocolate. "Cay!" she called to the adults in the room, who were watching the exchange between the little girl and her birthday cake.

A grin lit up little Allison's chubby face as she noticed the amused smiles of her family members, and she turned back to her newly discovered dessert. "Cay," she repeated happily, sticking her finger back into the icing as her conical birthday hat tipped to the right side of her small head. And then, when she discovered that a fingerful wasn't enough of the delectable treat, she reached over and grabbed an entire fistful. Sponge and icing squished through tiny fingers as the little girl brought her small hand in contact with her waiting mouth. The adults broke into laughter as the child's face became increasingly dirtied with chocolate icing and spongey cake.

The festivities were briefly interrupted when the four-year old boy sitting on Allison's mother's lap started to squirm. "Mo-om, I want down," he whined, craning his head back to fix his mother with his blue-green eyes.

"Okay," Elyse Cameron said, putting her son onto the ground and ruffling his curly brown hair before turning back to her daughter. Little Allison had now decided that even her fist wasn't enough. Instead, she had stuck her entire face into the cake. The woman broke into laughter. "Did you get a picture of that, Frank?" she called to her husband.

"Yup," he said jovially, waving the camera in his hand.

Unfortunately, the little boy had decided that he didn't like not being the center of attention. So much so that he sidled nonchalantly up to his sister's highchair and grabbed her cake right out from under her. The child's mouth immediately opened in a high-pitched wail.

"Andy!" Their mother cried, fixing her son with a disapproving glare. "Give your sister back her cake."

"But she's getting all messy," the little boy complained, holding the cake out of the little girl's reach.

"It's her birthday," his mother stated, grabbing the cake from him. "She's allowed to get messy."

"Stupid baby," Andy said, kicking idly at the ground.

He was rewarded with a Look from his mother, who put the cake back on her daughter's high chair.

The little girl's wailing immediately stopped. Instead, she smiled happily and grabbed another fistful of cake, then stuffed it in her waiting mouth. By the time she was done, she was covered in chocolate.

* * *

On her sixth birthday, Allison's parents invited several members of her first grade class to a birthday party at their ranch-style home. The little girl had talked of nothing else for over a week, and had been so excited that she'd barely been able to sleep the night before. All she could think about was the games they were going to play ("Pin the Tail on the Donkey" was her favorite), and the Star Wars cake she and her mother had ordered from the bakery.

Now that the children had arrived, the party was in full swing.

"I want to be Princess Leia," little Allison announced to her group of friends. She turned to Tommy, her first grade crush. "You can be Han Solo," she told him.

"Ewww!" came the teasing voice of Allison's older brother, Andy. "You have to ki-iss!"

Tommy's eyes went wide and Allison blushed. "No, we don't," the little girl mumbled.

But Andy had already engaged in song. "Tommy and Allison sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g! First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Tommy pushing a baby carriage!" The little boy dissolved into peals of laughter, and was soon joined by some of the other children.

"Shut up, Andy," six-year old Katie said, stepping up to the nine-year old with her hands on her hips. "They don't have to kiss if they don't want to." The embarassed little girl shot her best friend a grateful look.

"Yeah-huh," Andy said, sticking out his chin. "She's Prin –"

But at that moment Andy was interrupted by the sound of their mother's voice. "Time for cake, kids!" she called.

"Let's go!" several children cried (Andy among them). They all ran into the dining room, Allison trudging behind narrow-eyed and red-faced, while Tommy steered clear of her.

"Okay, sweetie," Allison's mother said, placing the cake on the center of the table. "You get the seat of honor." And she pointed to a special chair bedecked with purple cushion and strings of beads so that it resembled a throne.

Andy snickered. "You need one for Han Solo," he told his mother, pointing at a mortified Tommy. "Him and Allison are gonna have babies."

"Do you need to go to your room, Andy?" their mother asked mildly as a blushing Allison took her 'seat of honor.'

"No," said Andy sullenly, sitting down himself.

"Then cool it," she replied, lighting the cake.

Little Allison smirked at her brother's brooding expression. He never got into trouble for teasing her. And when her mom made him sing 'happy birthday,' her smirk grew into a grin.

She loved her birthday. 'Cause then Andy couldn't tease her, and she got to play with her friends . . . And she always got birthday cake. That was the best part.

* * *

On her thirteenth birthday, Allison got to throw her very first slumber party. She had been looking forward to it for weeks. Things were a little tense at home, and she still wasn't quite sure why. All she knew was that Andy had been going to the doctor a lot lately, and her parents kept exchanging tense looks. She had asked her mom about it once, but had been told that she didn't need to worry about it. Of course, this just made her worry all that much more.

So she had decided to put all her energy into planning for her birthday party. She was going to have four friends spend the night – Katie, Margie, Jessica and Karen. They were going to stay up all night talking about boys and music (their favorite was New Kids on the Block, and then watch reruns of Saved By the Bell that she had gotten her father to tape. And she was making her very own birthday cake. It was going to be strawberry with chocolate icing, and she planned to decorate it with tiny marshmallows. Definitely different, but it sounded good to her.

Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned. Just as she was taking the cake out of the oven, Andy came in the back door and slammed it shut, causing Allison to jump. There was a horrible moment when she watched the cake fly unceremoniously out of her hands and she knew there wasn't anything she could do to catch it. And then it flopped onto the floor, bits of pink sponge breaking lose and flying every which way.

Allison's lower lip trembled and her eyes filled with frustrated tears as she looked at her ruined birthday cake. "Why did you have to slam the door?" she asked her brother, who was standing frozen at the threshold.

Six months ago, he would have teased her. Made light of it. Now, however, his brow furrowed in what looked remarkably like regret and he fixed his sister with apologetic eyes. "Why don't you clean it up and I'll drive you to the store to buy a new one?" he said.

The change in demeanor surprised Allison. "Okay," she agreed, unable to say anything else.

It was as they were sitting in the car after having purchased a chocolate cake that she turned to him with concerned blue-green eyes. "Andy?" she asked, touching his arm. He slowly turned to her with a quirked brow, a carefully placed mask disguising the fear reflected in his own blue-green eyes. "What's wrong?"

Her brother swallowed and turned back to staring out the windshield. He was silent for several moments. When he finally did speak, Allison felt as if the world was dropping away from her. "I have HIV," he said quietly.

Allison's eyes grew wide in alarm and her mouth dropped open in shock. But before she could say anything, her brother continued. "I don't want to talk about it." And then he put the car in drive and took them both home.

Her birthday cake tasted surprisingly flat that year.

* * *

On her eighteenth birthday, Allison chose to stay home. Katie had offered to take her out dancing, with the promise of picking up "eligible studs." Wheedled her about it for weeks, actually. They were eighteen, they were legal. They had to go out and celebrate. But Allison didn't feel much like celebrating. Her brother wasn't doing very well. So she had stayed home with him.

When she had been fifteen-years old, she had learned that her parents were taking Andy to free clinics. Apparently, they had stopped taking him to a regular hospital the year before because the doctors were treating him like a routine AIDS patient and not doing much to help. This upset Allison, but something else upset her more. The switch to free clinics had occurred around the time that the news of Andy's condition had begun to leak out. When she asked her parents about this, they told her that they just hadn't wanted to ruin his chance at a normal life.

But somehow, Allison wondered if it was _their_ chance at a normal life that they were worried about. Ever since her brother had gotten diagnosed, they had gradually pulled away from him. She knew they were hurting, and she was pretty certain that they didn't really know how to deal with the pain of seeing their only son so ill. She also knew that they blamed themselves for Andy's tryst with the 19-year old who had given him the disease. He had been fifteen when he'd contracted the virus, and it had been his first time. She was sure that her parents felt tremendous guilt over the idea that maybe, if they had known what was going on, they might have been able to stop it. What she didn't know was if they realized how alone their guilt and incidental ostracization made Andy feel.

But she never asked them. Instead, she decided to be thankful that this course of treatment kept Andy at home. Rather than taking him in and out of hospitals, her parents had set up a regimen whereby he got to rest in his own bed and take the meds prescribed by the free clinic.

He was in bed now, as the two of them ate huge chunks of Allison's gooey chocolate eighteenth birthday cake. Or, Allison ate a huge chunk. Andy pushed his around on his plate.

"I hear you want to go to medical school," he said, finally putting his uneaten cake on top of his nightstand.

Allison swallowed her mouthful, attempting to ignore the ache in her chest as she noticed that her brother hadn't felt up to eating anything. "I'm thinking about it," she replied, smiling sadly.

"You're not sure?" Andy asked, gazing at her intently through his long brown eyelashes. Allison sighed, hesitating. "Allie?" he prodded.

"I don't know if I'd be very good at it," she admitted, looking at the floor.

There was a brief silence, and then Andy was slowly reaching out and pushing her chin up with his shaking fingers. "You can do anything you put your mind to," he said, looking intently into her eyes.

Allison swallowed back a lump and forced her lips upward into a smile. "Yeah . . ." she said, but doubt was reflected in her eyes.

Andy's eyes darkened with the distinct hue of determination. "I mean it, little sister," he said seriously. "You can do anything."

She locked earnest eyes with her brother for a moment until her smile actually became genuine. "Okay." she said, nodding her head.

Satisfied, Andy dropped his hand and laid back against his pillows. "So are you going to go to medical school?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Allison replied seriously. "Yeah, I think I am."

"Good," Andy prodded hoarsely, his lips curling upward into their own smile.

He closed his eyes then, and Allison found herself reaching over and grabbing his hand. Comforting this brother that had been both the bane of her childhood, and the advocate of her teenage years. "I promise," she said softly, just before he drifted off to sleep.

A month later, he passed away.

* * *

On her twenty-first birthday, she stayed at home with her husband. They had been staying in a lot more recently. They told themselves that it was because it was cozy in their tiny one-bedroom apartment in their comfortable college town, with the fire blazing and the television droning on in the background while they cuddled in one another's arms.

Neither would admit that it was because he had been getting weaker over the past few weeks.

Because both had tricked themselves into believing that maybe his cancer would go into remission after all.

When she returned home from a long day at school, the scent of chocolate immediately attacked Allison's willing nostrils.

"Hey, baby," he said with a smile, stepping out of the kitchen bedecked in an apron.

"Hey," she grinned alluringly, giving him a kiss. "You look cute in an apron."

"Just call me Martha Stewart," he replied in a charming manner. Unfortunately, the effect was lost when he suddenly grimaced in pain and grabbed hold of his head.

"Are you okay?" Allison asked in alarm, her eyes filled with concern as she placed her hand over her husband's.

"I'm fine," he said quickly, lacing his fingers through Allison's and shaking his head as if to clear it. "Just need a couple aspirin is all." Both of them knew it was a lie, but it was a lie that both of them were willing to accept.

"Hey," Michael said later that night as Allison cuddled in his arms eating her birthday cake.

She craned her neck to look back at him, her lips curling into a soft smile. "Yeah?" she asked, placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth.

He leaned back into the sofa and fixed her with earnest eyes. "I love you," he said seriously.

"I love you, too," she replied, her smile growing wider. And then she leaned forward and kissed him tenderly.

It was the first time in a long time that she actually enjoyed her birthday cake.

* * *

On her twenty-sixth birthday, Allison had planned to spend all night studying. Midterms were looming, and senior rotations were becoming increasingly grueling. If she was going to make it through the year, she had no time to goof off.

Even if it was her birthday.

Even if she would have liked to celebrate. She hadn't really celebrated for the last five years.

She sighed, trying to push the thought aside. For the last five years, it had been an ongoing battle. Every time her birthday rolled around, she started to feel excited. Wistful. Remembered the parties her mother had thrown for her when she had been a little girl. The planning that would go into them, and the invitations she would carry to school as though they were sacred documents of some sort. The lack of sleep she'd get the night before the party, too excited to slumber. And the birthday cakes, glittering with candles and iced to perfection, each with their own special design.

She couldn't remember exactly when her birthday had stopped being fun and started to feel like a chore. She only knew that she missed it. So when her roommate suggested meeting a group of friends for dinner, she felt a twinge of excitement at the idea. But then the reluctance took place, and she remembered all the work she was supposed to get accomplished. "I need to study," she said instead, pushing her glasses further up her nose as she leaned over her books.

"You can't sit at home all night and study," Sally had said in exasperation. "You study too much as it is."

"But I have midterms in three days," Allison protested, worry depicted in her bespectacled blue-green eyes. "If I don't study –"

"If you don't study, you might actually get through them," Sally interrupted. "You're so worked up; you can hardly sit down for two minutes. And besides that," she continued, fixing her roommate with a no-nonsense expression. "We're not taking 'no' for an answer."

"But –"

"Nuh-uh," Sally interrupted. "One night." And she fixed her roommate with a glare that brooked no exception.

Allison met Sally's gaze and sighed. But then a smile tugged at the corner of her lips, and she dropped her highlighter onto her books. "One night," she gave in, feeling a little thrill of enthusiasm.

Sally's response was to smile triumphantly and set up plans for dinner . . . Which was why Allison was now sitting at the center of a huge table, a gigantic sombrero perched upon her head.

When the waiter first tried to make her wear it, she attempted to refuse. Unfortunately, Sally had made it through medical school on pure determination. "Give me the hat!" she demanded of the waiter. He happily obliged, and Sally plunked it onto her stubborn roommate's head. "Now you look authentic," the young woman grinned in pleasure at the look on Allison's face. The rest of the table, made up of various med students from the girls' class, broke into riotous applause.

"Thanks a lot," Allison grumbled, but Sally's grin was infectious and soon she was wearing her own. Especially after three margaritas and two shots of tequila, generously donated by her friends to the "Get Allison Drunk Fund."

So when the waiter came back with a chocolate birthday cake laden with twenty-six candles, it was no surprise that she was grinning foolishly and swaying slightly in her chair. Nor that she sang 'Happy Birthday' along with her friends. _("Happy birthday to _hic _me! Happy birthday _hic_ to me!")_

"Blow out your candles, Allie!" someone called, while someone else snapped a picture. A drunk Allison was definitely going in the memory book.

Several tries later _("Oh, gross! She's spitting on the cake!" "What do you expect? She's drunk!")_, and Allison had finally done her job. A grin lit up her face as her friends broke into applause _("About time!")_. And as she looked up and down the table at the various happy – albeit blurry – faces, she came to a decision. Birthdays were meant to be celebrated.

* * *

On her thirtieth birthday, an exhausted Allison – now known as Dr. Cameron to most of those in her inner circle -- trudged into work on what was supposed to have been her day off. One of her colleagues – Foreman – had been out ill for the past two days with a nasty case of the stomach flu, and she had been enlisted to take his spot. She had briefly considered talking herself out of working on her birthday, but then decided against the idea. They had a patient who was in pretty serious condition, and her work ethic was too strong to ignore him. That, and the fact that somehow the idea of spending her birthday with her sarcastic, acrimonious boss gave her a slight thrill. Not that she'd ever admit it.

Besides, there were always brownies. When she had gotten home last night, she had gotten the crazy inkling to make something to bring in today. Even if it meant being mocked by that sarcastic, acrimonious boss. It was her birthday, and she deserved to have something to celebrate it with. Besides, she was pretty sure she could shut House up by stuffing a brownie into his mouth.

Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned. Just as she was pushing the door open to the diagnostics office, a harried House came pushing through and Allison didn't have time to adjust. There was a horrible moment when she watched the brownies fly unceremoniously out of her hands and she knew there wasn't anything she could do to catch them. And then the plate dropped onto the floor, bits of chocolate flying out from underneath the aluminum foil. Just before House's forward momentum caused him to place his right foot squarely onto the paper platter.

Allison drew in a sharp breath, her shoulders slumping as she took in the ruin of her birthday dessert.

"You dropped something," House said unnecessarily, arching a brow as he raised and studied his tennis shoe.

"I noticed," she replied sadly, stooping down to pick up the mess of aluminum foil and brownie. House raised his eyes from his soiled shoe just soon enough to notice her crestfallen expression.

"Special occasion?" he asked, ignoring the way his chest constricted at the look on her face.

"No," she lied, avoiding his eyes as she straightened up with the plate in her hands. "I'm gonna go clean this up . . ." And with that, she quickly turned around and headed out of the room.

It was stupid, really, she decided as she studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror. She was too old to celebrate her birthday. Thirty. She didn't need brownies to remind her that she was another year older.

Even if she had wanted to celebrate.

Besides, she was a doctor now and she needed to focus on her work.

With that in mind, she trudged slowly back down the hallway and into the office, decidedly less animated than she had been when she had first come in to work.

And immediately stopped in her tracks. Sitting atop the conference table, directly in front of her usual chair, was a perfect pink Sno Ball. Marshmallow and chocolate on the inside, pink coconut on the outside. Just like the ones they had recently put in the vending machine downstairs. And poking out of the top was a melted birthday candle, a lighter resting by its side. She stared at it for a long moment, a feeling of warmth seeping into her chest.

Suddenly, House cleared his throat and Allison glanced up to find him looking at her pointedly. "We've got a patient," he said, limping over and pushing the chart toward her. "I need you to run a CBC and perform a lumbar puncture."

Allison ignored the request, instead gazing at him intently. "There's a Sno Ball on the table," she said, studying him.

Still holding the chart out to her, House feigned surprise as he looked at the treat resting on the table. "I told the janitor to stop leaving his lunch in here," he replied.

Allison smirked and shot him a look that said she clearly didn't believe him. "Something tells me the janitor has better things to do than hijack our conference room," she remarked.

House shrugged, but Allison couldn't help notice that he looked a little uncomfortable. "Figured you'd need a replacement for your brownies," he said. Then, adding a joke: "Don't worry, I promise not to step on it this time." With that, he smirked and plunked the patient's chart onto the conference table, then turned to leave the room.

Allisons's lips curled into a knowing smile as she watched him leave. "Thanks for the Sno Ball, House," she said softly.

Her words caused him to pause, his hand resting on the door to his office. "I don't sing," he finally said, just before he pushed open the door to the adjoining room and stepped inside.

A slow grin spread across her face as she stared after him. Somehow, the idea that he'd taken the time to put this together meant more than she could say. And as she sat down to enjoy her treat, she decided that maybe she wasn't too old to celebrate her birthday after all.


End file.
